Almost Romance
by Ash Light
Summary: Nobby, along with his friends and new enemy in the Watch, has to accompany Lord Vetinari back to Klatch. Meanwhile, a young woman named Bana is sure she recognises one of the new foriegn guards..if she visualises a veil in front of his face first...
1. The Perils of Being Fred Colon

**A/N**: I love the _Discworld_ series. And I particularly love the Night Watch. So how could I not write about them?

Ok. If anyone has read _Jingo_, the 21st of the series, one of the scenes that will stick in your mind is Nobby having to dress as a woman, and meeting a group of women. One of which would be a nice young woman, name of Bana, who is the first to approach him. A little while later, the Night Watch have to go back to Klatch with Lord Vetiniari. Trouble and almost-romance will ensue...

---0000----

Sergeant Frederick Colon, affectionately nicknamed 'Fred', 'sarge' or 'that fat idiot' by his friends, had known from the moment he had woken up that today was not going to be a good day. His wife had been particularly cool with him (the note she had written him practically _dripped_ ice), he'd had to resort to eating one of Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler's new, experimental line of Lizard Rolls for breakfast, Nobby had managed to pilfer his watch, his cup of coffee and five dollars from him, and he was on Shade patrol for the next week. But the look on Vimes' face when he stormed in was enough to make those things look like the highlights of his day.

"Erm...Evening Commander..."

Vimes whirled round and glared at him.

Colon let out a squeak. That is, he didn't exactly _squeak_, no matter how many times Nobby confirmed that he had, in fact, squeaked, but an alarmed, pathetic sort of whine escaped from his mouth, and his face took on the expression worn by men when their wives have got home after a weekend away and seen the mess of the house.

"The High Guard!" Vimes snarled, "The Lord Vetinari's High Bloody Guard!"

Nobby, Cheery Littlebottom and Reg Shoe, the only other three in the room, all exchanged worried looks. These looks clearly said, "Commander Vimes is clearly mad right now, and either wants to drink something or kick something. Now, we all know how Lady Sybil will react if he starts up drinking again, so we should all assume that he will want to kick something, so why don't we all just get the hell out of here as fast as we can, okay?" The three of them slid off the desks where they were perched, and shuffled (or, in Nobby's case, sidled) towards the door.

They managed to get about a third of the way before Colon, in a bloody-minded desire to see that each of them suffered equally, reached both hands and a foot out, tripped up Reg, pushed Cheery towards a chair and grabbed Nobby by the scruff of the neck, leaving him dangling about a foot off the ground. Colon hadn't become a sergeant to let people get away from angry officers while he suffered.

Vimes was still ranting, "The bloody High Guard, I ask you! The High Guard!"

Colon nodded weakly, dropping Nobby on the floor, "That's….nice, sir," He said, not having a blind clue of what his commanding officer was talking about, "Why don't you just…"

"Nice? Nice! It's not bloody nice, Fred! It's a bloody nightmare, that's what it bloody well is!"

"Alright, it's a nightmare. Would you like to sit down, sir?" Behind him, Cheery hurriedly scuttled to fetch a chair.

"The High Guard," Vimes muttered, staring slightly into space, as he usually did when he had been given an unpleasant job to do, or had just had a meeting with Vetinari, "That's what we are. You, me, Carrot, Angua, Nobby, Detrius, Cheery, Reg, Visit, Dorfl and Diltrum and Kelphin. Whoever they are. I think Carrot's been enrolling men behind my back again, Fred. If they _are _actually men. Which I doubt. Who _are_ Diltrum and Kelphin?"

Colon felt that he was being let down onto familiar territory again, "Kelphin is a gnome, sir…"

"What? Another one?"

"Yessir. Very adept, sir. Good at training sparrows. And Diltrum's a man, sir. Bit cocky in his own right, but I s'pect he'll settle down soon enough, once me an' Nobby show him the ropes."

Vimes cast a suspicious eye at him, "You mean once Nobby tries to push him under a cart at least six or seven times, don't you Fred?"

"Yessir."

"Hmm."

Nobby, who was now massaging his neck irritably, butted in, "What's the 'High Guard' sir?"

Damn, Colon thought, as Vimes' face blackened. Just as he'd started cheering up too….

"The Lord Vetinari's High Guard, Nobby," Vimes said, in a monotone, "is what we have joined. Non-voluntarily. As in, we-don't-have-any-choice-in-the-matter. As in, not-of-our-own-free-will. As in, do-this-or-the-Patrician-will-have-_words_-with-us."

"Ah," Colon said, nodding expertly, "He'll get sarcastic. He might even get _ironic_," The sergeant shook his head, "Might even raise his eyebrows, if we're really unlucky."

There was a pause as Colon considered this terrible possibility. Vimes, however, was fighting to keep the grin off his face.

"Yeah, well," He said finally, "sarcasm, irony, and eyebrow raising aside, Fred, the point is, we're it. The High Guard. Ordered to accompany Lord Vetinari to Klatch in no less that one week from today."

There was a brief silence.

"Erm…Klatch? We're going to Klatch? Home of those bloody towel…tow…. Very nice Klatchian people?" Colon managed to get out, off Vimes' look, "Salt of the earth. I love 'em. Brilliant people. But why are _we_ going there?"

Vimes shrugged, "Officially, it's because the Palace Guard will remain here with whoever looks after Ankh-Morpork while the Patrician travels to Klatch. Privately, his Lordship says that he'd rather us accompany him to a foreign country than his Palace Guards, who mostly he doesn't trust but really can't be bothered to get rid of. Don't ask me why he wants _us_ to come instead, I've always thought he was loony. And, personally, I think he's just doing this to annoy me. Starting to do that a lot, that man."

Reg Shoe nodded thoughtfully, "So….we're going to Klatch?"

"Apparently so, Reg. No imminent war or anything like that boys…and lady," Vimes nodded to Cherry, "Just old rivals dropping by to say hello, that sort of thing."

"But why's Vetinari goin'?" Nobby grumbled, "Can't he get one of those Ambassor…ambassa-wotsits to go?"

"Bastard probably fired 'em all just for this opportunity," Vimes snarled into his cup of coffee.

Colon stayed behind as Nobby, Cheery and Reg stomped off, "Sir, are you alright?"

Vimes sighed, still glowering into his cup of coffee. It was starting to get into a bit of a habit, Colon realised. Whenever a Watchman had a grievance, they glared at their coffee. The Ankh-Moporkian coffee probably felt more put-upon than any other coffee in the world.

"I'm fine, Fred," Vimes told his coffee, "It's just…going back. After being told my that bloody Organiser that I had an appointment to Die. That kind of thing sticks to you. Unsettles you," He sighed, as if a new thought had just occurred to him, "And I won't be able to read _Where's My Cow?_ to Sam at night!"

_He takes it seriously_, Colon thought fiercely. _Whatever you do, don't snigger._

"Yessir," He said, "Shall I tell the other Watchmen, sir?"

"You do that, Fred. And Fred?"

"Yessir?"

"This time, keep Nobby away from women's clothes, won't you?"

"Yessir."

"Thanks Fred."

* * *

**A/N**: _Definetely_ going to be continued. Writing Colon is too much fun. And I can't wait to write in the character of Nobby. Kleptomaniac's are so funny...

In the next chapter, Bana has trouble with cooking, and Nobby makes a new enemy. As if he didn't have enough of those already...

Read and review! And eat chocolate.


	2. Sailing over Stormy Waters

**A/N**: Well. Me updating after less than a week. This is a thing unheard of. I may have to lie down.

After posting this, of course.

Thankyou _sehr_ much for the lovely reviews! As ordered, I am continuing. 'Tis fun.

* * *

Today was not a good day to be Jasmine, cousin of Bana. Actually, today was not a good day to be anyone within fifty yards of Bana, but Jasmine felt it was a particularly bad day to be her.

"DAMN! Holy hells! Bloody blasted bugger!"

Whatever else you could say about her cousin, Jasmine mused, you couldn't say she didn't have a certain knack for alliteration.

The younger girl raised her head slightly above the table that she had dived under for shelter, and began to frantically pat down the corkscrew curls that dominated her head. The blast had only _barely_ singed them, but still….."Did it work?"

Bana, Jasmine realised, attracted a lot of attention from the young men in Al Khali. When she walked by, her petite figure, dark hair and sparkling eyes seemed to cause every male in the vicinity to drop what they were doing and blink stupidly for a few seconds.

Jasmine was willing to bet that none of them knew that underneath that friendly exterior lay one heck of a _wicked_ temper.

"No!" Bana scowled at the stove – or rather, what _had_ been the stove. Lumps of melting iron slowly dripped off and congealed under what had used to be the hob – although, fair enough, it didn't look like a hob anymore, "That's the last time I ask those," She lapsed furiously into Klatchian for a moment, "who call themselves _Alchemists_ for a good recipe."

Jasmine shrugged, "Count yourself lucky," She muttered, "I heard that in Ankh-Morpork the Alchemists Guild House doesn't even stay in the same place. It _moves_."

"What? Have they got it in a caravan?"

"I don't think it moves voluntarily."

"Oh."

The two girls stared critically down at what _had_ been their lunch. Bits of unidentifiable paste oozed lazily. There was a slow _hiss_ as something corroded against the remains of the stove.

"So I'm guessing we're _not_ going to serve this to Aunt Anjii."

"No."

"No."

"She'd only think we were trying to poison her."

"Well…"

"_No_, Jasmine."

"Fair go."

Things squelched. Other things bubbled. In the deepest corners of the range, sixteen different species of bacteria died out just from coming near the Remains.

"We're going to have to find something else. Unless, of course, we want to make your famous Sheep Eyeball and Curry Pie. And _that_ would probably do a better job at poisoning her than…._this_."

"Don't knock my cooking, Bana!"

"_Cooking_? Is that what it is? When you made that Camel Hoof Casserole, six Assassins went out of business because of the competition."

Jasmine pouted. Her expression was soon covered by another, rather more sly look. Bana and her cousins had come to dub this look as The Face. It was a look that, had they known it, bore a certain resemblance to one sometimes worn by a certain Corporal Nobbs of the Night Watch. It was a face that promised rewards, gain and good fortune. That was, to the wearer of The Face. To people on the receiving end of The Face, it merely promised Trouble.

"Of course, Aunt Anjii only asked to see _you_."

"_Me_? But…wait…she asked to see you, too."

"Nope. Nu-uh. Just you. I remember. She just wrote to see 'Bana'."

"And 'Jasmine'. She wants to see you, too."

"I choose to ignore that."

"Jasmine? Jasmine, get back here! You can't leave me to face her alone! Jaaas!"

----00000----

Vimes stared at The Uniform. The Uniform stared (1) back.

"No."

"Sir Samuel…"

"No."

"It is _customary_ for the Duke to wear proper Ducal dress uniform."

"I'll go starkers before I wear that."

"Well, it would give the Klatchian nobles something to talk about…."

"_No_. I won't wear it! I'll stay on the bloody ship! I will!" Vimes smashed his hands on Lord Vetinari's makeshift desk.

Vetinari stared pointedly at Vimes' hands. It was the kind of stare that implied that, should the hands not be removed, Vimes would have to go about seeing if it was possible to wield a sword with no hands at all.

The hands were hurriedly removed.

"Thankyou, Commander. As I was saying…."

"I'll wear the Watch Commander dress uniform, sir!" Vimes said urgently, "But only for landing, and even then I _refuse_ the helmet with the plumes. _Refuse_ it, sir. But no Ducal dress uniform. I'd rather be served food by Cut-Me-Own-Throat-Dibbler than wear those bloody ruby tights."

Vetinari seemed to be considering this, "Watch Commander dress uniform, only for landing, no helmet? Alright."

Vimes noticeably sagged with relief, "Thank you, sir."

"Thank goodness we got that sorted out. Now do go away, Vimes, there's a good fellow."

Vetinari watched Vimes leave the cabin, smiling slightly, before turning to Drumknott, his head clerk.

"Amazing, isn't it Drumknott, how easily Vimes can be tricked into wearing the Watch Commander dress uniform? And he even thinks he's won the battle."

Drumknott, by now used to his Lordship's way of arranging matters, simply nodded sagely, and buried himself in more paperwork.

Vimes, cursing both the Ducal dress uniform and the man who had seen fit to promote him to Duke in the first place, staggered out on deck, passing Corporal Cheery Littlebottom. Or at least, Corporal Cheery Littlebottom's bottom half.

"Still haven't got your sea legs, eh, Littlebottom?"

Cheery looked up from where she had been hanging over the side of the boat, looking rather worse for wear, "Sorry, sir. Us dwarves just can't get the hang of boats, sir. We aren't used to them."

Vimes nodded towards Captain Carrot, who was halfway up the rigging, peering out to the horizon, looking as though he was having the time of his life.

"Oh, Carrot's different, sir."

"How?"

"He's odd."

Vimes shrugged. Of course, that was true. Everyone would admit that there was something odd about Carrot. Everyone would also admit that there was something nice about Carrot. Usually, the nice part of him was what made him odd. He was just _too_ likeable.

When the Creator had made Carrot, Vimes thought, he must have forgotten to add that mixture of greediness, slyness, cynicism, and utter _vileness_ that lurked within each human being, no matter how deep. What had actually been _done_ with that mixture Vimes wasn't sure, unless –

"Look at the sea, Fred! Don't it look bumpy? All ups and downs. The boat don't look very safe, does it? You reckon we're going to sink? Fred?"

It had all but run out when he had created Nobby.

Colon was clinging to the mast (he had refused to let go for the past hour, ever since a big wave had come by), glowering balefully at Nobby, who was perched on the side of the boat, enjoying the trip and hamming it up for all he was worth.

"I'll kill the little bugger," Vimes heard Colon mutter under his breath, "I will, I don't care if he's my best mate, I really will push him right into the sea, no-one will mind…."

"Fred…."

"Sorry, Mr Vimes," Sergeant Colon mumbled. Vimes let the 'Mr Vimes' slide. After all, he thought, after all we've had to go through, I reckon he has the right, "But he's such a…"

"Little git," The two chorused. Vimes couldn't help smirking, "Yes, Fred, but he's _our_ little git, and besides, you wouldn't want to push him in now, there's sharks about."

Colon had the decency to look abashed, "Yessir…."

"He'd give 'em food poisoning."

"_Yessir_."

"I shouldn't worry about that, Commander. The sharks would probably turn their noses up at the_ likes of him_."

Vimes felt a slow, prickly sort of feeling creep up on him as he turned to face Corporal Diltrum, a thin faced, ferretesque sort of fellow. Young, new in the army and already a Corporal. That had made Vimes suspicious from the start.

It wasn't that he had _decided_ to dislike Diltrum, per say. He fitted in well-enough, could stand all night in the rain and wouldn't complain, didn't _seem_ particularly to be a mad-knife murderer from Vimes' point of view, and he'd spent long enough in the wrong time zone with one to know what _they_ were like. He had a good enough grip on what was right or wrong. It was just all the grey bits in between that seemed to get Diltrum confused.

Vimes wasn't sure what it was, whether it was the fact that he always _seemed_ to sneer at anyone who happened to be below 'Captain' in rank, in particular Colon, Detritus and Nobby. Or maybe it was the muttered comments that Vimes thought he could hear the man hiss just under his breath. Or maybe the really, _really_ infuriating thing was that he had _never_ _caught him at it_. But there was just something about the man that made Vimes' fists itch.

"Diltrum."

"Commander, Sergeant," Diltrum's eyes glinted almost maliciously, "How long before we get to Klatch?"

"Another couple of hours, I should say," Vimes said cautiously, as Nobby swung himself down from the side of the boat and walked – no, sidled – over to join them, shooting Colon a knowing smirk. Nobby and Diltrum did not seem to Vimes to be able to hit it off.

"Looking forward to getting there, Corporal?" Colon said, in a tremendous effort to make nice.

Diltrum's mouth twisted slightly, "In a way, Sarge. It isn't as if any of us are _really_ looking forward to it, is it?"

Vimes wasn't entirely sure that Diltrum was referring to the general home-sickness of the Guard.

"Like to expand on that a little further, Corporal Diltrum?" Vimes asked, his eyes narrowing in a way that said 'You're on thin ice, boy, and you're not too popular anyway, so you'd better back down, sharpish'.

"Well, who wants to be stuck on a land full of camel-breath, sir?" Diltrum asked. Nobby stiffened, "Surrounded by that lot, I'm not sure I shall be able to stand the smell."

Vimes and Colon were too shocked to react. Nobby, however, never stayed long on 'shock', and always headed straight to 'offensive'.

"What's that s'posed to mean?" He demanded, drawing himself up to his full height (and still having to glower up at the man), "Got somethin' you'd like to get off your chest 'bout the Klatchians, Diltrum?"

Diltrum's face contorted into the twisted sneer that he saved for Nobby.

"Well, I suppose _you_ wouldn't like to hear the _truth_ about your towel-head friends, Nobbs," Colon and Vimes automatically slammed against Nobby's breastplate, "I hear _you_ had a brief sojourn there yourself. Must say I can't say much for your choice of clothes."

"Listen, you little bas –" Nobby attempted to twist out of Vimes and Colon's grip.

"Heard you particularly enjoyed the company of the rag-head's _women_," Diltrum continued.

Nobby's scowl tripled in intensity.

Vimes took two handfuls of Nobby's chainmail, rust and all, and hung on for dear life. Colon winced, "Shouldn't have mentioned that," He muttered under his breath, while simultaneously trying to stop Nobby from ramming his steel-capped boots into the most vulnerable part of Diltrum's anatomy, "Still a bit sensitive about that. Oh blimey."

"S'welp me, I swear –"

"Is that the reason you wanted to come, eh?" Diltrum leered, "The Klatchian ones good for more than just a chat?"

Nobby launched himself at Diltrum.

Vimes covered his eyes. Colon made a small noise of grudged sympathy.

"You reckon we should stop him, sir?"

"In a while."

Diltrum was a fair fighter, for a person as weak-looking as he was. Vimes had seen the man break up a pair of fighting dwarves with just his hands. But that was just his hands. Compared to a fighting Nobbs, who would use not only his fists and feet, but teeth, elbows and knees into the bargain, the man was as useful as a Curious Squid in a fight.

Angua, Carrot and Detritus appeared somewhere behind the scrapping pair, Angua jumping lightly over the two to join Vimes and Sergeant Colon, "Aim for his jugular, Nobby, that usually works," She muttered. Angua had not been impressed by Diltrum's rather offensive views on werewolves.

"Thanks miss!"

Carrot was looking down at the now blurred forms of Nobby and Diltrum, an expression of horror on his face, "Oh, now really, there isn't any call for this!" He exclaimed, "Now, I know you two are probably feeling a bit homesick, but…but…are you listening to me?"

"Every time," Vimes muttered under his breath, "Every time, he does this. The amazing thing is, it usually works."

Detritus bent down and picked the two men up, each collar held by a gargantuan fist, so their feet dangled about a foot from the ground. Diltrum was a mass of bruises and cuts, as far as the eye could see, and his knees were brought up to his chest in a way that suggested that Nobby had used his favourite kick. Nobby had a torn lip, and was glaring resentfully at Diltrum out from a black eye. Amidst the loathing he felt for the man, Vimes couldn't help feeling slightly awed. Not many people could injure a Nobbs once in full-swing.

"Now den, what's youse two men doin'?" Detritus demanded, shaking them lightly. Diltrum groaned, "Youse are men inna Watch! You _behave_! Now who were starting dis?"

"Him," Nobby snarled, swinging gently, "He was bein' a bastard 'bout the Klatchians."

Diltrum's eyes widened. Now it seemed that he was going to get in trouble for the fight, he was the picture of innocence. Vimes was suddenly reminded of Carcer, on a much smaller scale.

"Me? I never did anything!" He protested, wincing pathetically, "He," He shot a put-upon look at Nobby, "just came at me, swinging his fists and kicking! I'm the victim! Commander Vimes and Sergeant Colon will tell you, won't you sirs?"

Vimes sighed, shaking his head. The man actually believed that he was going to get let off the hook.

"Don't let this fluffy, soft exterior fool you, Diltrum," He said, while Angua and Colon smirked, "I heard the things you were saying about the Klatchians, and I don't approve of that. _And_ you were doing it to provoke Corporal Nobbs, and I don't approve of that either. Detritus, put down Nobby."

Diltrum mouthed helplessly at his Commanding Officer, while Detritus gently set Nobby down on the ship, "You alright now, Corporal?" The troll lumbered. Detritus didn't mind Nobby, as far as he was able.

"Yeah….well…."

The Sergeant nodded, and then walked over to the side of the ship and dangled Diltrum, who was now squirming rather theatrically, over the edge, "You want me to drop dis Diltrum over der side, sir? It no problem. He bound to slow us down."

"Yes!"

"_No_!" Vimes glared at Nobby, "No, Detritus, just put him down, will you?"

"Put _down_, sir?"

"On the _ship_, Detritus. Good grief, we wouldn't want to give the sharks food poisoning, would we? And you two, just lay off the scrapping for now, eh? Or I'll have to ask the Patrician to sort out matters, alright? Thank you."

Nobby glowered at Diltrum as he passed, the man shooting a cold smirk at him as he hobbled off, "Wish Detritus had thrown that git off the boat and all," He snarled, "None of them things he said were true, none of 'em," He shot an anxious, almost pleading look at Colon, "You don't believe any of those things, do you Fred?"

"Lay off, Nobby, you know I think them Klatchians are good enough blokes."

"Good," Nobby drove his clenched fists into his pockets, scowling furiously, "I'll get him for that, Fred, I swear I will."

Colon nodded, albeit uneasily, and walked over to the mast, where Vimes was standing, head in hands, "I reckon this trip promises to be somewhat interesting, Sir."

-

-

(1) Of course, it didn't actually have eyes. But Vimes could have sworn that two of the gems on the coronet were focused on him in a particularly _mean_ way.

* * *

**A/N**: And, for once, Sergeant Colon is right. This _does_ promise to be interesting.

That is, in the same way that someone holding a knife up to your neck while standing on your toes promises to be 'interesting'.

Ahem. We shall move on.

And now, the customary thankyous to: **Twist** (thankyou very much! Your review made my day! As they all did, but whatever, I just wanted to say that. Ahem. I'm glad you think my characterization is good. I like writing these characters. They're freaking awesome. Eat chocolate!) **eris86** (Bwa ha. You must read the book again if you miss it! Or any book with the Watch in it. I've just got _Jingo_ out from the Library, who will soon be hunting for my blood if I don't give it back soon...) **MadPossum **(Aw, thanks. Writing Vimes is fun. You get to be all cynical and wry and slightly insane. In a nice way, of course) **and -Anonymous- **(Thanks. Love the name!)

Until next time...eat much chocolate!


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